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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26646562">«4/23/18»</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/xv_genn/pseuds/xv_genn'>xv_genn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Depression, Dissociation, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, My First Fanfic, Other, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Self-Harm, Tags Are Hard, Worldbuilding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:34:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,121</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26646562</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/xv_genn/pseuds/xv_genn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>4/23/18 is a documentation of America’s rising mental and health related illness rates and how it begins to affect the personification of the country known as Alfred F. Jones. It follows his descent into a self destructive pattern reflecting the ones most prevalent in his nation. Said content includes:<br/>Alfred fall into depression and his rising anxiety -- his struggle with paranoia and intrusive thoughts -- the development of multiple and evolving eating disorders based on his nations eating habits and perpetually toxic diet culture -- his eventual development of a drug addiction based off of the rising addiction rates in his country and as a result of the stress, depression, and anxiety of  his current mental ire. </p><p>This is a massive trigger warning for those reading as it will contain graphic descriptions of: self harm, drug use, disordered eating, depression, dissociation and intrusive thoughts. (Some of this is based of personal experience, so that's a warning)</p><p>(ps I am editing and rewriting a fic from 2015)</p><p>Enjoy - xv</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The trigger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>5:30 am. The clock blinked, red lights flashing and imprinting their image into my eyes. He groaned, turning away from the clock before slipping on his glasses and picking up his phone. The white light shone harshly from the screen, making him consider turning back to the ,now screaming, alarm clock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He got up, kicking his legs over the bed and rolling out onto his feet, he groaned as he stood, his ruffled wheat colored hair mused with sleep, blue eyes unfocused and glazed with dying dreams. The sun started to rise showing through the large French window on the east side of the room, putting a spotlight on his sleepy, and quite honestly annoyed figure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred got up, walked over to the bathroom with disdain on his face, he went in, took a whiz and brushed his teeth. He stood staring at the reflection in the mirror, critiquing himself, his looks, mood, stance, soul, existence.</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He yanked open the bathroom door and left it, tossing his toothbrush into his vanity in disgust at his character.  Exiting the bathroom and slipping on his glasses, Alfred dressed, pulling on brown slacks and donning an accompanying pressed white dress shirt and a pale green tie. <br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gathered items up from around the room, slipping his phone in his pocket, before quickly brushing his hair and applying two spritz of cologne. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man walked downstairs, the floor creaking under his steps, stopping at the banister, he picked up his bomber jacket and slipped on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking over to the kitchen, Alfred looked for a protein shake .</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>"shit, I'm out." Alfred said with a grimace. He stood, stretching up to the cabinets, obtaining a mug and pouring himself some coffee staring out of the window in-front of him showing a green and manicured lawn, perfect bushes, and impeccable flower gardens. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The house and grounds were perfect, clothing and appliances perfect, everything is the house perfect, except for one  thing. Him. Alfred ``Freedom” Jones. The mistake of the nations, the epitome of failure and shame, and a failed colony. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He shook himself from the daze, moving again to the hall grabbing his shoes and slipping them on before yanking his keys off the hook and walking outside. He turned and kicked his door, coffee in hand, before walking to his car and starting out for Washington D.C.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world meeting was taking place in his capital, in his county, in his home. A place he valued and protected, a place that reminded him of a reason to live, or well used to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drove, looking at the grandiose monuments, the expansive mall, museum lined streets and the tourist staring in amazement at his nation’s glory. He pulled onto the road leading up to the capital, turning next to a Big Bus and in front of a person on their phone. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The light flashed, suddenly changing to red.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Alfred stopped, slamming on the break in his slight panic. His car lurched forward, his coffee spilling onto his slacks and the car's leather seating. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Ow ow ow ow, fuck..” Alfred hissed out and stopped before he reached over the console to grab napkins. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Unexpectedly his car jerked forwards once more, a sharp crunching noise emitting from the back of the vehicle.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Oh shit-” choked out Alfred before he was cut off, his head lurching forwards, forehead cracking against the wheel and the bridge of his glasses snapping with the force.<br/>
</span>
  <span>The light flashed to green and Alfred switched on his hazards and pulled over. Alfred exited his car and felt the crack in the bridge before tossing his glasses too the ground with anger.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Alfred bit out before pasuing. He turned to the side, seeing a lady walking towards him, an enraged look over her pinched, reddening face.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Lady, what the hell." sighed Alfred, his expression, stormy and agitated, eyes darkened with hate for the woman who graced his eyes. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>"What right have you slamming on the breaks like that I have a place to be, you could have run the light, and this entire situation would have been avoided, you insolent child!" She spit out. Her scratchy voice ripped into the air, dyed blond hair and wrinkled face showing anger while manicured hands poked at his face.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>"Why were you not paying attention,” Alfred shot back. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Her expression slowly became enraged.”You shouldn’t have stopped! You made me crash" She stated.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The blond bat shoved Alfred, causing him to stumble back a few feet. Bystanders to the event had already contacted the authorities and the two officers who were idling in a bank parking lot. They pulled up to the pair to break up the confrontation. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The officers, upon exiting their cruiser, were greeted with the lady who cried wolf. She put on the theatrics, weaving a story about how Alfred had “Assaulted her” after “rudely cutting her off before “swearing at her”. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Lady, please calm down, we want to determine who is at fault, but are unable to do so until you are able to stop shouting, so please, explain what happened clearly and concisely.” Stated the first officer, a burly man with a dark brown but trimmed beard. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The second officer, a short lady with a serious expression and brunette hair held in a high bun, stood back, surveying and ghosting her hand over her cuffs and around the taser. She turned to look at Alfred, tilting her chin up at him before stating “ You blondie, over here, let's talk.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>In the background the lady continued to explain her story, embellishing it and turning up the water works.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred walked over to the officer, stumbling slightly on an object he couldn’t see lying on the pavement. “I’m guessing you want to hear my side,” he mused, expression cold and annoyed. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The officer looked to him, cueing Alfred to continue. “The light changed suddenly, I stopped as to not run it, and next thing I know my head is against the steering wheel and she had rear-ended me. I exited after pulling over, she yelled at me and then shoved me.” He stated, an annoyed tone seeping into his voice as he explained what had occurred. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>She nodded, “Seems reasonable and from what the calls stated correct. I’m guessing you wish to press charges?” The officer quipped, cocking an eyebrow expectantly at Alfred. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Yeah.” He answered, cold and curt. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>She nodded, before turning and moving to her partner, explaining the latest occurrence before turning to the lady declaring that she was being taken into custody of Washington Police.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The male officer walked over, issuing Alfred paperwork and collecting his information before following his partner and the struggling lady into the cruiser.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Alfred got back into his car and gazed down at his car's out of focus clock.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span> "Late” he muttered, tone dripping with abhorrence for his late status.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Alfred continued his drive, although carefully and with a hesitance that was normally seen in the elderly when operating a vehicle. He pulled his car onto the exit ramp, the back axle creaking with the angle of the turn but holding up and he merged onto the main road and prepared to turn into the parking garage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned and pulled into the entrance and up to the booth.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span> "Alfred" the security guard at the booth said, nodding to him before letting the gate rise and granting him access. Alfred drove into the first level, parking next to the car that belonged to Matthew.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“20 minutes past, they’re not going to be happy.” He mused, quietly sighing before yanking the key out of the ignition, grabbing his case, and exiting the vehicle. Alfred jogged to the lift, his hair disturbed by the accident became more out of place with the motion.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He entered the lift and pressed the buttons with purpose, standing, Alfred tensed more as he thought of the verbal tirade that he would receive from Ludwig for being late. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doors pinged his arrival on the 4 floor, and opened to the bright hall with blue carpet and wooden columns holding bust of previous presidents in glass cases. At the end of the hall stood two heavy oak doors, with bronze handles that have been highlighted and shined by use. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked over to the doors and took a deep breath. He tried to present his facade of the S</span>
  <em>
    <span>tereotypical </span>
  </em>
  <span>American” that he presented to the other nations in attendance. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Alfred pushed the right door open, interrupting the announcement from Ludwig, the Germans eyes narrowed at the sight of Alfred as he stepped in.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Care to explain your lateness?” The german inquired, voice cold and accusing as he glared down at the american man.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>"Yeah, yah know hero's got to be fashionably late.." Alfred quipped, letting out a stiff chuckle.</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sit down, America," Ludwig ordered, "you've already missed enough." stated Ludwig, as he gestured to his seat next to Arthur.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Alfred walked over and dropped down into the seat next to the English man. He leaned back into his chair, started up at the woodworking on the ceiling, before spacing out and ignoring the meeting. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The american stared, Ludwig’s droning a constant in the background.  His eyes glazed slightly as he sat and stared. Alfred wondered what exactly the conversing nations were saying.  </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He blinked up at the ceiling, listening half heartedly as he picked up fragments of Ludwig's words. In those fragments, he heard his name but he neglected to respond, opting to stare forwards. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span> Alfred snapped out of his haze by hand making contact with the back of his head and the sounds of the meeting rushed back in. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span> "America, why were you late, why aren't you paying attention?" Ludwig sighed out, an exasperated expression on his face and annoyance lacing his voice.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just wanted some pancakes this morning." he said, voice clipped but light and he lied blatantly to them.</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Pancakes, being late over pancakes…” Ludwig paused and reached a hand up to rub at his forehead in annoyance, “that is unprofessional and certainly inappropriate for a nation." Ludwig stated, Alfred in response, smiled broadly before staring at the table. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Arthur leaned over to Alfred, whispering "Pancakes!” he hissed “Have you no self control Alfred, why couldn’t you just wait?" the brit bit out, his eyes shooting venom at Alfred.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“The hero needed his food." Alfred shot back before continuing his staring contest with the beige plaster walls.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The meeting continued on, each nation stepping up to make their own announcements about their governmental changes, new policies, changes in political leaders, and law and regulations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mathias finished his announcement concerning the political relationship between the Danes and Greenland and exited the podium.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>"Alfred." Ludwig called, his hand gestured to the podium at the head of the ovular table, "I believe it's your turn."</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span> Alfred lifted his head, he looked at Ludwig with thinly veiled annoyance before the blond stood and took his place at the podium. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He talked simply and cleanly, listing the things that had changed with the U.S. government and the recent politics and policies of his country along with the political interactions between America and other nations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Alfred’s turn came to a close, he stood still for a moment before adjusting his papers and quietly returning to his seat. The other nations watched, curious at the American's professionalism. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>As the last of the nations finished and the meeting drew to a close, Alfred stood quietly before he took his leave, brushing past Matthew and Arthur without much more than a quick “See ya, Mattie” or “Bye, Arthur.” as he exited.<br/>
</span>
  <span>Arthur stared quizzically at his exit before he looked to the American’s twin. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Matthew, is something up with Alfred, he didn’t seem overzealous and loud today.” Arthur inquired, tilting his head slightly in question.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span> “I haven’t seen anything up awry with Alfred '',supplied Matthew, “but I can keep watch” finished the Canadian.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span></span><br/>

  <span>Arthur looked over to the door and he wondered what was going on with the normally boisterous American.</span>
  <span></span><br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The start</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Chapter 2<br/>------------------<br/>The documentation of the evening following the meeting and the start of Alfreds descent with a lunch meetup.<br/>Tw<br/>Chapter song(s): Blah Blah Blah by The Oozes and Oh Ana by Mother Mother<br/>------------------</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Alfred walked, his footsteps clumsy and hurried as he rushed down the hall towards the elevator. He stopped, momentarily, to jab a gloved finger into the down arrow before glancing over his shoulder at the ajar wooden door with worn bronze handles.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>A ding chimed out into the hall before the doors slid open for Alfred, although, all too slowly. The blond slipped past the doors before turning to the board and jabbing the close door button and the button leading down to the parking garage. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He sighed, as he let out a shaky breath and pushed his back into the paneled walls of the lift. He ran a hand through his mused hair, cowlick flopping cup as the American brushed the rest back. He looked up at the flickering light, observing and waiting to see if anything would happen. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>A sharp ding chimed into the air, pulling him back into the present and starling him to an alert state.  The American exited the lift, pulled out his key, and walked to his blurry, beat up Nissan Rogue. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He clicked the key, unlocking his car before sliding in and starting it up. Well more accurately, attempting to start it up, his car shuddered, chuffed, and rumbled before falling quite, dash alight with blurry, orange and red flashing alerts. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Start, fucker.” Alfred hissed to himself, attempting a second time to get his car to come to life. It sputtered and shuddered again, warning lights flashing and inlisgustinguable to his eyes, before falling silent, the slight hum of the radio taunting him in the background.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“No. No no no, you can’t do this!” Exclaimed the American, his voice turning into a high pitched and desperate whine at the end. Alfred attempted a third time, lights flashing, car shuddering, radio switching off and on before it fell into a lifeless state for a final time. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He clenched his hands, balling them into fist before pounding on the wheel in outrage, the car letting out short, forceful honks as he raged. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You mother fucking, useless shit rag of a car!” yelled Alfred, “Start!” he yelled once more laying into the horn with exasperated anger. He grabbed his case, phone, wallet and keys before hopping out of his car and kicking the door paneling. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>It dented. He growled in anger before locking it and stalking towards the exit of the garage. Damned to walk to an area with taxi’s, he began his journey. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Alfred left the garage, turned left, and walked down the street away from the conference center and towards the heart of Washington. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned onto 17th street, heading for the heart of the city. People brushed by talking between themselves while he walked and weaved through the pedestrians gathered on the sidewalks. Alfred kept his head down, focusing on the ground, looking for hazards to avoid in this temporality vulnerable state. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He stopped at the curb and hailed one of the taxis, entered and told the man his neighborhood in the suburbs of Washington. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>A ring pierced the soft radio in the cab. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Alfred, slightly startled, yanked his phone out of his slacks pocket and clicked it on to see who decided to grace him with their call. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Arthur, the screen blinked up at him, a swipe to answer the call mocking him. He debated powering his phone off and sending it to voicemail but he picked it up. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“A-Arthur?” he asked, stuttering in a somewhat futile attempt to keep the loathing tone out of his voice. Alfred frowned hoping that the brit didn’t pick up on his tone.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Alfred, Francis, Matthew and I wondered if you’d like to join us for dinner?” Arthur asked, he paused for a moment , thinking, before continuing “We’re going to be meeting at Ihop in 20 minutes, Gilbert, and Spain may also be joining but as of now, I haven’t a clue.” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Alfred thought for a moment, he didn’t quite want to go, to him the idea of eating and being around the critical eye of the others wasn’t one of his goals considering the start of the day , but, as they say “the play must go on!” and a facade must remain intact. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Well that sounds great” Alfred said, stretching the great in sarcasm, but, what would sound like eagerness to the brit “leave a seat for me, I’ll be arriving in 15.” He then promptly hung up, rolling his eyes, Alfred redirected the cabbie to the Ihop on 14th street.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Fuckin’ hell” he muttered running his right hand up through is bangs “why now of all time Arthur.” Alfred wondered, this dinner was going to be the bane of the day, not getting hit, not sitting at that horrid meeting, no this god forsaken dinner was it. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He dreaded it, he dreaded having to put on his facade and he dreaded having to eat the damn pancakes and having to talk to them while they commented on everything wrong about him. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The cabbie pulled over, pulling Alfred out of his head. “13.75 Sir” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Alright here” Alfred handed the bills through the pay slot before quickly exiting the cab and tripping slightly on the curb before making his way to the doors and letting himself in without much grace. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Alfred” Arthur greeted nodding his head slightly towards the America,  </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Arthur, how are you man?” Alfred asked, his face adorned with a smile and tone light, but his eyes glared straight through the Brit, even as the American winked.</span><br/>
<span>“I’m jolly, but I would be better if that french prat would stop talking for one moment. He hasn’t stopped his nattering since we got here and Gilbert and Antonia aren’t helping.” Arthur ranted, hands gesturing slightly as he fumed. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Huh, sounds tough.” Alfred deadpanned, staring at Arthur’s continuation of the rant. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Let’s sit down huh, Artie” The American said, as he grabbed the brit. They walked over to the occupied table by the window, where Matthew, Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert were seated, menus in the middle of the diner table with 2 rows of flavored syrup next to the napkin dispensers. To the left of the napkins was a little metal stand holding the halloween specials for that year, including a Wednesday Addams themed pancake. </span>
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  <span>The blonds reached the table, Alfred pulled out a chair next to the widow and Matthew, across from Arthur. Seated next to Matthew and currently babbling on about the quality of crepes in America was Francis who sat across from an encouraging Antonio with an equally boisterous Gilbert across from Matthew. </span>
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  <span>Alfred grabbed a menu but in the lack of glasses stared at it trying in vain to make out the small blurry letters. Along with the letters were colourful pictures of breakfast items that were indistinguishable from on another. </span>
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  <span>“Francis, please, shut up for a second would you.” Arthur ordered, foot tapping against the floor in annoyance. </span>
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  <span>“Quoi? As someone who has no skill in the kitchen, you shouldn't care, Angleterre~” Francis mused out, playful and light to the Brit, “But, if I must for the sake of Alfred, I will, oui” The frenchman turned and looked to the American awaiting an answer.</span>
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  <span>“Yeah, sure.” Alfred said quietly before returning to his decoding on the menu.</span>
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  <span>“Alfred?” Antonio asked, “Have you tried the Spicy Poblano Omelette?” The Spaniard finished.</span>
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  <span>“Look at him, do you think he’s tried the omelette before.” Arthur quipped, huffing quietly under his breath. Antonio let out his own chuckle before examining more of the menu. </span>
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  <span>While the group chose their meals and hunted through the menu, a waitress came and took their drink orders. Matthew, Alfred, and Gilbert ordered coffee while Francis ordered the espresso, Arthur black tea with cream and sugar, and Antonio ordered a glass of orange juice with minimal ice.<br/>
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  <span>Their drinks arrived promptly for the crowded restaurant, three mugs and a pot of fresh coffee, a glass of juice, tea and lastly espresso. Coffee was portioned out with accompanying cream and sugar packets handed out by Francis, as he had come to possess them first.</span>
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  <span>“Alfred, how many sugar packets do you want, as we may not have enough.” Francis asked, the insult rolling out and over the table without any uprise. Arthur chuckled, pouring his 2 packets into the tea, stirring lightly with a spoon, “You’ll want 5 or 6 correct, give or take a few too account for your appetite.” He quipped, a chuckle popping out after it. </span>
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  <span>“Come’on Arty, give Alfred a break, you’ve been harpin’ on him all day, no cause for it.” Gilbert defended standing up for his friend. He knew that Alfred didn't eat the best but, none of em did, hell Gilbert had spotted the brit devouring a packet of crisp and a sleeve of biscuits before the meeting. </span>
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  <span>“You don’t eat healthy all the time, I even saw you cathcin’ a snack earlier, crisp and biscuits.” The Prussian countered winking at Arthur and sending a thumbs up to the, admittedly spacey American. </span>
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  <span>Alfred didn’t notice or really hear the exchange, his coffee was clutched in one gloved hand, chin in the other as he started out of the window, clouded eyes unseeing. He blinked, once, twice, and then was back in the present, sipping on his coffee and giving one last futile attempt at reading the blurry menu. </span>
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  <span>“Al, you need help with that?” Matthew asked his brother quietly, motioning to the menu. </span>
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  <span>“Yeah, um pancakes, what are the options?” Alfred muttered, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. </span>
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  <span>“Though he would have had the menu remembered by now.” Arthur huffed Arthur, grinning down at his own menu before taking an extended pull of tea.</span>
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  <span>“Fuck off Arthur, I don’t care to deal with your backwash British shit.” Alfred hissed back at the slightly startled brit, expression annoyed and cold. The brit reeled slightly before continuing to sip his tea with vigor.</span>
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  <span>Matthew looked at them and shook his head at the brit is disapproval before starting to read the menu to his temporarily weakened brother.</span><br/>
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<span>“So, um, pancakes have, um, buttermilk, harvest grain ‘n nut pancakes, um, tres leches ,cupcake pancakes , strawberry, blueberry pancakes, strawberry banana, chocolate chocolate chip pancakes” the Canadian paused. He picked up the limited time menu before he continued to read “ um, french creme brûlée pancakes, and cinna stack pancakes.” </span>
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  <span>“Thanks Matty” Alfred said softly, offering a smile up to his brother before he hailed the waitress with a raised hand.</span>
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  <span>“Ready to take you orders?” The server ask, and she gestured to Antonio first. </span>
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  <span>“I’ll have the Spicy Poblano Omelette, please!” he requests, flashing a smile to the waiter before handing in his menu and looking to Gilbert.</span>
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  <span>Gilbert cleared his throat, “I’ll have the Stuffed french Toast with extra bacon, little bird.” he winked, a single red eye shined at the waitress before the albino man gestured to the french man.</span>
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  <span>The waitress looked to Francis, awaiting his request. </span>
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  <span>“Donne moi la crêpe avec crème et des fraises, belle~” Francis requested, as he sent a wink towards the waitress.</span>
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  <span>She nodded before reciting back to the french man “ strawberry and creme, right?” She clarified.</span>
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  <span>Francis nodded before gesturing over to the Canadian.</span>
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  <span>“I’ll- I’ll have the, um, Original buttermilk pancakes, please.” The quiet man said, as he smiled softly at the waitress before gesturing over to Arthur.</span>
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  <span>“I’ll have the classic breakfast sampler, please, with the eggs over easy, thank you, luv.” Arthur said before popping his chin at Alfred. </span>
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  <span>“I’ll just have the original pancakes, short stack, please.” Alfred simply requested softly before he handed the menu over to her. The waitress collected the rest of the menus before she departed the table.<br/>
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  <span>“You managed to not order a massive amount of food for once Alfred, not healthy but better than the shit I’ve seen you shovel in.” Arthur sneered in retort to the earlier response from Alfred. </span>
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  <span>Alfred snapped his head forwards, eyes glaring into Arthur, mouth set in a tight line. </span>
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  <span>“Shut your trap, Arty, you fuckin’ knackered British prick.” Alfred spit back, a low growl sounding before he turned back to the window. </span>
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  <span>The table sat in a terse silence, the other nations started between the former colony and the formal empire, before the blanket of silence was interrupted by the arrival of their foods</span>
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  <span>They took this time, refilled coffee and passed around the syrup, before they cut into their dishes. </span>
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  <span>“Alfred, this is very good. I am surprised.” Francis commented before cutting into his crepes. “The creme is fluffy and sweet and the berries are firm, sweet and add a layer of fresh fruit flavor to cut through the froth and sweet of the crepe, this is just magnifique!” Raved the ecstatic Frenchman. He nodded at Alfred before he spiked his espresso and took another fork full.</span>
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  <span>“I agree this, this is really fuckin’ good, it just opens and is, quite awesome!” Gilbert exclaimed with a smile as he cut open a slice of the toast. The fillings gushed out, sweet syrup over the plate, and to Gilbert’s delight, on his already cut piece. The Prussian smiled, before he popped the piece into his mouth.</span>
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  <span>Antonio looked at Alfred before cutting into the omelette and taking a bite. He chewed a contemplative look on his face before a soft smile appeared. </span>
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  <span>“This is perfect, it reminds me of the summer in Spain, Alfred.” Antonio mused before he slipped a chopped tomato into his mouth and made a soft mnn sound.</span>
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  <span>Matthew had already tucked into his  pancakes, cutting the 6 stack taking generous syrupy bites before going back for more. </span>
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  <span>“Reminds me of breakfast at home with Kilimanjaro.~” softly sighed the Canadian, his eyes closed as he imagined the snow covered fir forest and the crackling of a warm fire.</span>
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  <span>The brit cut into his spread, he adorned toast with butter eggs and mash before taking and sausage, halving it and putting it on the breakfast toast. He bit, chewed and bowed his head to Alfred.</span>
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  <span>“This is bloody better than I could have done, tastes like a proper english spread, only missing the black pudding.”Arthur said to Alfreed, nodding his head in approval of the meal. </span>
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  <span>Alfred slowly cut up and ate his, sectioning and separating each pancake on his 3 tier stack, sorting them by size and shape before picking one and eating the small piece, Unusual as it was, he enjoyed it and continued to consume his lunch with a subdued joy.</span>
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  <span>As they ate a soft banter started around the table, the nations joked with one another and shared food with the others.</span>
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  <span>Arthur engaged Francis. They squabbled, friendly insults passing between the pair, and before the others new passing the time. </span>
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  <span>They watched as Alfred chuckled softly at Francis’ rebuttals, Gilbert added in his own quips between bouts of rambunctious laughter that earned a swift kick from the Brit.</span>
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  <span>Matthew, ever the quiet one, silently sent faces at the other nations when they said something that didn’t quite make sense, his reaction causing the others to snort or crack up. </span>
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  <span>Before they knew it, their lunch was over, all plates cleared, except strangely enough, Alfred’s, but they chalked it up to him having a snack before lunch. </span>
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  <span>The group paid and departed into Washington D.C., they hailed taxies and jumped into their own cars before waving a final goodbye.</span>
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  <span>Alfred slipped into his own taxi and told the cabbie where his house was. They drove, Alfred started out of the window, blurry buildings and cars passed by and he sat. </span>
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  <span>His mind was alive, thoughts racing, he wondered why Arthur invited him if he was just going to be a prick, he wondered why his day had started shitty and why it was determined to continue to be that way. Strangely enough, he wondered why it felt nice to not finish his meal, why the slight ache felt good in a weird way.</span>
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  <span>Through his wondering and distraction, Alfred failed to realize they had arrived. The blond only realized after the cabbie had knocked on the separator loudly, taking him out of his stupor. </span>
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  <span>Alfred paid, gathered his things and exited the car, he walked up the drive, tripping once on some loose gravel, before arriving at his door and entering his home. </span><br/>
<span>Alfred toed off his shoes, shrugged off his jacket, and tore off his tie. He let them rest at his feet before entering deeper into his house in search of spare glasses and a stiff drink. </span>
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  <span>The nation headed into his kitchen, searching around his island until the found the spare pair of specs he kept stored in there and then he meandered to the cabinets by the fridge, grabbed a bottle of gin and a glass and some round ice before making his way to his room.</span>
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  <span>Alfred placed down the gin, glass, and ice before he drew the curtains, unbuttoned his shirt and took off his shirt and dropped his slacks. He sat on his bed, facing the tv, in boxers and an undershirt before flicking on the tv to CNN news and pouring a glass to a shitty day and to shitty politics. </span>
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  <span>There he drank and watched tv. He played games with himself, whenever the president's name was said in a negative connotation he drank, whenever a tweet of his popped up, he drank, and before Alfred knew, he was properly sloshed. </span>
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  <span>Alfred capped his bottle before he sat up, the world tilted and wavered before it became an uneasy steady. He walked to the bathroom, grabbed his bottle of valium and walked out. He took his perch on the bed before he opened the bottle and spilled some of the medication into his hand.</span>
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  <span>Alfred didn’t particularly care how many he took, he couldn’t die, but he wanted to sleep for a while and this was a way to achieve that goal.</span>
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  <span>“Here we goo.” Slurred Alfred before he took a swig of gin, popped the pills and swallowed. He got under the covers, news playing in the background and fell into a deep, dreamless, drug filled sleep.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>------------------<br/>I hope you enjoyed his chapter. It took longer than planned and I got lost while writing some bits, but i like how it came together.</p><p>All the items from Ihop are real and quite good, so if you want you can order them and I have some plans for the next chapter in about a week or soo. </p><p>Lovely regards</p><p>- xv<br/>------------------</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The all consuming pain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>------------------<br/>The documentation of Alfred’s continued degradation and mental descent following his arrival home and the days after. <br/>!!!<br/>Trigger warning, seriously this chapter goes into it, and uses my own experiences as a descriptor, it will be detailed, so be ready, this chapter also has very little dialogue.<br/>!!!<br/>Chapter songs: Sweet Hibiscus Tea by Penelope Scott and No Below by Speedy Ortiz<br/>------------------</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alfred awoke, his eyes darted around, his skin covered in a sheen of cold sweat, his heart pounded against his ribs, and his lungs seized in fear, trying to breath with futility. Eyes wide he searched, looking around, listening for gunshots, feeling for shredded metal and heat, yet all that met his touch was sweat soaked sheets and a long discarded tv remote. </p><p>He grasped the sheets, fibers straining against his grip as his lungs unlocked and he took harsh, gasping, breaths. Shivering and panting Alfred sat, hands interlocked in the sheets, knuckles white and straining as he slowly forced his hands open. </p><p>“Fuck.” He huffed out, voice hoarse and throat dry. The news reporter on the tv droned on about a crash on 14th street. The golden rays of sun shone through the curtains, setting a warm light on the carpet in fuzzy, round blotches. </p><p>He blinked, wetting his drying eyes, before a whine forced its way out of him. Eyebrows drawn in frustration, he thwarted off the tears that threatened to fall down his visage. Although he was trying, his attempts were naught. Tears tracked their way down his face, little huffs forced their way out of his throat as Alfred cracked. </p><p>A soft, pleading sob leaked out, little tracks of tears turned into rivers of emotions as he continued to weep. Alfred shook, hard wiping at his face and shoulders heaving with each sob. </p><p>“Why?” Alfred let out, voice watery, nose stuffy and clogged. <br/>“Why?” He questioned, remembering the way the truck ahead of him went up in flames as the IED detonated, remembering the way their screams were cut short, then the feeling of heat, pain, and panic as his own truck went up into flames.</p><p>He breathed in, choking slightly as he smelt diesel and burning flesh. Alfred shook his head and the world spun, pain blossomed at the base of his skull and quickly spread to behind his eyes. </p><p>“Fuck, fuck ow..” He let out, sobs stopped in an attempt to negate the pain that now clotted his senses. He let his body drop back onto the pillows and closed his eyes, sobbing stopped, as his mind was occupied by lessening the now all encompassing pain of his hangover. </p><p>Alfred cracked his eyes open and gazed upon the fuzzy world of his room again. He reached over to the bedside table, rifling and searching about for his glasses. The blond found them, in an unfortunate way. </p><p>The dropping and tinkling of glass sounded out as his glasses dropped to the hardwood food of his bedroom. Alfred blinked, once, twice, before sighing. </p><p>“What the fuck, why the fuck does my bullshit morning start like this?” He asked, pleading to whatever deity would hear his call. </p><p>“Jesus fuck.” Spat Alfred, he pushed his sheets aside, dropped his legs over the side of his bed, sat up and rested his feet upon the floor. He pushed off from the bed, and flinched. The glass cut into his feet and embedded their forms into his skin. He huffed and continued, blood seeping in the hard wood and he made his way to the bathroom. </p><p>Alfred stumbled as his world went black, and a buzzing filled his head and he felt light headed. He stood, swaying slightly, the darkness faded from his vision, head still light and the pain now ebbing away in favor of a dizzying pleasure, he continued on. </p><p>The blond stepped through the threshold and into his bathroom, flicking on the lights he examined himself in the mirror. His face held pallor, eyes red and irritated while piercing blue started dully into the mirror. His hair, dull, sweaty, and oil covered, lay limp like wet hay. </p><p>Alfred moved his gaze down, examining and criticizing more, his stomach while toned, looked big, like that of a bloated corpse, his thighs soft and slightly round hid the muscle built beneath. He looked at his arms, the way that even though they were muscular but just a little too big, the way his wrist, to him, looked overly large and hands soft and cakey. </p><p>Alfred shook his head, regretting it with the way the room spun about him, the lightheaded pleasure gone, traded out for the piercing pain that once again blossomed in his skull and feet. </p><p>He turned and started the shower, hoping that the warm water would ease his head along with the white noise of the stream hitting the ceramic flooring on his shower. Alfred let his shower heat behind him while he took the time to use the loo and brush his teeth and the taste of alcohol out of his mouth.  <br/>Turning back to the now steaming shower from his wash basin. Grabbing the washcloth and razor that lay on the basket next to the shower, he entered through the glass door. </p><p>Alfred flinched at the pressure of the stream as it belted on his head before he reached to close the door and place his items down on the floor. He sighed, the soreness of his back and muscles leaving with the warmth, headache ebbing away slightly at the stream. </p><p>He opened his eyes, gazing at the grey,blue, and white tiling of the shower. Pink tinged water flowered over the tiles, smaller pieces of glass sliding out of his feet as he toggled from foot to foot. Alfred grabbed the shampoo, standing securely in the shower he lather his hair before exchanging it for body wash and continuing down. </p><p>HIs hands tracked over his body, feeling, searching, and looking for things to criticize, hunting for the imperfections in a hope to scrub his skin of them. He started at his shoulder and arms, scrubbing hard with the washcloth, skin turning lobster red under the heat and abuse. Hands continuing down he found his chest, stomach, and hips, he could grasp and hold the fat there. </p><p>Alfred hissed in disgust before scrubbing more, harder, faster, in an attempt to just erase it. He went until his skin screamed at him to stop, rubbed raw and red, stinging from the soap and friction. </p><p>He lowered himself down onto the warm tiled floor as he continued his search by moving down to his legs. He didn't work as harshly here, just scrubbing enough to clean before he continued to his feet. </p><p>The blond scowled, before he grabbed his washcloth and tried to softly work the glass out the more glass escaped the redder the water flowed. Alfred reached what he could of the glass before going over once more and standing again under the hot spray.</p><p>He reached up and washed the shampoo out of his hair before grabbing his conditioner and working it in as it saturated his hair. Turning around he let the water wash off his back and the body wash there. </p><p>Alfred turned once more to face the spray, then stopped, the world felt funny, faint, the noise had gone away, just a far away echo, the sides of his vision darkened again before fuzzy colours returned.He frowned before finishing up and stepping out the shower, leaving the washcloth to drip dry taking his neglect razor with him. </p><p>He placed it on the vanity’s counter before he grabbed a towel and dried off. His hair slowly regaining its fluffiness and body becoming dry. He stared at himself again, his eyes roaming over all that he saw. </p><p>Alfred dressed before he moved back to his room, the news played a report of some daily atrocity, white noise creating a slight buzzing in his head. He slipped on a pair of boxers and a simple t-shirt and laid back onto his bed. Damp hair creating a small wet spot on the sheets and feet letting small droplets of blood onto his sheets. </p><p>Strangely Alfred noticed the fuzz of white noise extending to the feeling of the sheets on his skin and the pain in his feet. It felt far away, he felt far away. He looked around,  as his thoughts, emotions, and feelings became muted and small over the hours he lay, prone, on his bed.</p><p>Alfred stood and walked towards the bathroom, he quickly considered the consequences of what he was going to do before he grabbed his razor, and turned it over in his hand. He needed a box cutter he surmised, before, he exited the bathroom and his room to the hall.</p><p>The nation padded slowly through the halls and into his office, slid open the drawer and spilled its contents onto the desk. A heavy thunk resonated through the room as it fell out of the drawer. The metal casing caught the light of the sun, beckoning his hand forwards. </p><p>Alfred picked it up off his desk and examined it in his hand. His mind questioned his actions, but he ignored it. He padded back down the hall ,as if he were controlled like a marionette, with the box cutter grasped in his hand.  </p><p>He slid it open, the sharp but used blade reflected the light and he looked at it. Shaking his head he picked up the razor from his vanity and clutched it in his hand before sliding the tip of the blade into the plastic casing. </p><p>Working the box cutter back and forth, he popped the plastic edging away from the thin blades and they fell away and onto the smooth stone of his vanity with a soft tinkling sound. </p><p>Alfred stared at the blades and the warm light reflected off of the sharp razors edge. It encapsulated Alfred, drawing his reach. He stuck one to the pad of his fore finger, before he grasped it between his thumb and pointer.He held it, staring at the razor edge. His mind, physical sensations, and emotions felt so far away from him. He didn’t know why this felt like a solution but, it did, and it was. </p><p>“What the fuck.” Alfred whispered to himself, he shook his head, and tossed the razors back onto the vanity before he retired to his room. A buzzing sound arose from his bed as he moved across the room. The disregarded and forgotten phone sat, buzzing away, the blinking name on the screen showing “Gilbert” with a picture of the Prussian behind it. </p><p>Alfred debated not picking it up, but he knew Gilbert would call until he did or would come over to deliver said message in person. </p><p>He sighed and cleared his throat before he hit the green pick-up button.</p><p>“Gilbert.” Greeted Alfred, voice hoarse while his tone was calm, and melancholy.</p><p>“Hey, dude, you want to grab a beer with me and Mathias at Union Pub?” asked Gilbert, his voice tinged with excitement and hyper-slurr to his words.</p><p>“S-sure.” the blond responded “Artie won’t be there right; brits been a real “jolly prick” lately” Alfred quipped, tone becoming sharp and staccato with the impression of the brit.</p><p>“Yeap, he won’t be there, just come one, it’ll be fun, I’ll pick you up!” Gilbert stated, he did have a point, it’d be nice to see his metaphorical “bros” again and share a night with them.</p><p>“I’m in.” Alfred said before he paused and asked, “time?” </p><p>“7:00 pm!” Gilbert ecstatically said, before letting out a quick “see ya!” and hanging up.</p><p>Alfred looked around, debating what to do, the clock next to him blinked a nice 2: 30 pm. </p><p>Time, he had lots of it and nothing to do. Alfred decided to get a coffee and aspirin, his headache still pounded behind his eyes, ignored after all this time.</p><p>He got up, walked down the hall and down his stairs to the kitchen. Cars and people milled around and passed outside as he looked through the window.  The mid afternoon sun shown on the counter reflecting and spitting its' rays, lightening the room. </p><p>Alfred walked to the Keurig machine, he popped a random coffee cup into the machine before he slid his mug under it, lacking any sugar or milk. He selected his cup size and pressed brew, popped an ice cube into the cup and let the coffee start.The blond grabbed the remote before he turned to the tv in the corner of the kitchen and clicked it on. CNN news with Wolf Blitzer, the man on the screen talked, tweets from the president criticizing China and Russia while talking about how he was so great and has done so much for the country. </p><p>Alfred knew he’d done nothing for him, he could feel it in his bones, he could feel the economic downfall, the disease, the greed of the 1%, and the helplessness of the impoverished. He could feel the pollution in the air every time he breathed, he could feel the fires burning across California, Washington, and Oregon on his skin. </p><p>Nothing had gotten better for his country or his people, politically America was a war zone, investigations launched on White House officials, republicans being fired, emails and cases being revealed day by day. Things such as election rigging and tampering by Russia’ officials for Trump, the long continuing Epstein Case, and the almost daily shootings, police violence, and murders distressing the news, government, and Alfred. </p><p>The cynicism and darker outlook taken by the American was a damper, a damper to help him come to the reality that his country, that he, America, was going to go up into flames at the hands of “His” President. </p><p>Wolf continued to talk, discussing the current situation concerning their president, Russia, China, and North Korea with experts, each stating facts and sharing opinions on the matter at hand. </p><p>The sound of the reporter's voice was interrupted by a short, spurt spurt as the Keurig finished brewing his coffee. He padded over to the machine, took the pod out and tossed it into the nearby bin before he slid his now full cup from the shelf of the machine.</p><p>Alfred took his cup back to the opposite end of the kitchen, continuing to watch the news as an ad of Ozempic played. He took a slip, the warm liquid spilling its' bitter taste over his palette, he held it there, reveling in the flavor of the caffeinated drink before he swallowed and let the coffee warm him. </p><p>“Pumpkin spice.” The blond noted before he went back for another sip. The news flashed back on, title card with “Situation Room with Wolf Blitzer” shining on the television before the man himself appeared. </p><p>A new topic was brought up, and to Alfred’s chagrin, it was the ongoing obesity crisis in America. He knew about the crisis, he could feel it in his stomach and in his mind. He could feel the gluttony of his people. The TV flashed with statistics going easily into the millions, people dying of preventable weight related diseases, people suffering from preventable diseases such as heart disease, diabetes type 2, high blood pressure, kidney disease, hypertension. His people were willing to eat themselves to immobility and death or to a new type of obese called super morbidly obese for those who went above and beyond. </p><p>Organizations like Health at Every Size were supporting this, and the American Body Positivity Movement had been hijacked by HAES, leading to the support of being overweight, obese, and even morbidly obese. </p><p>Alfred felt sick at the numbers, his stomach coiled and tightened at the thought of what his people were doing to themselves and to him as a nation. He knew that for a portion of those people that they couldn’t control, whether it be a result of BED, Hypothyroidism, or immobility they were victims to their own bodies and minds.  He didn’t blame them, but those who shamed others for wanting to be fit, those who supported being a dangerous weight, he attributed the rising number directly to them. </p><p>The report switched as he took another sip of coffee, jumping to the other side of the coin. The rising number of those suffering from eating disorders or practicing dangerous eating habits. The death toll for disorders such as Anorexia, Bulimia, Orthorexia, ENDOS, BED, and Anorexia: Binge Purge Subtype was in the millions. Numbers reflected teens, adults and even children who suffered from them.</p><p>The screen flashed again, now showing the statistics of those who were suffering from weight related diseases such as anemia, malnutrition, osteoporosis, and fertility issues, and the previously stated ED’s. A certain number of his people were starving, whether to conform to beauty standards, to punish themselves or to be “perfect”. They were killing themselves, slowly and painfully. </p><p>Alfred knew of this, he heard their thoughts and the pulls of their actions. He felt their dizziness, fatigue, and hunger pangs. He felt light headed, unreal at the numbers shown on his screen, and at the people who supported their actions such as the Pro-Ana community. A community of people who helped each other reach their gws, giving tips and tricks, using thinspo, fatspo, meanspo to give each other the will to not eat and to restrict.</p><p>Sickening he thought as he put his half finished coffee down and pushed it away, the drink being too much to handle with the statistics and information of his suffering people in front of his eyes.Wolf and the guest of his show continued to talk about the different information presented before them, comparing the numbers, death tolls, taxes, and it’s rising rates of disease and death. </p><p>He grabbed the controller and changed it to Fox News, where praise of the president and his actions were being sung. </p><p>Alfred snorted, knowing damn well the very little Trump did and the negative impact most of his actions had had so far. He thought as he watched, trying to separate the truth from the fiction of the words spewed by the news reporters. </p><p>The clock in his hall chimed, deep chimes sounded into the house 3 times. He jumped slightly, the clock drawing him out of his musing before going silent. </p><p>He moved about the kitchen as he figured this was a s good as ever to have a late lunch. Alfred padded over to the refrigerator, opened it and reached in, searching for lettuce, chicken, eggs, mayo, and chives. He picked up the items and placed them on the counter next to the open door before returning to close the door. </p><p>The blond then moved to the cabinets as he grabbed canola oil, flour, rice vinegar, and a small bowl. He placed the bowl on the counter, opened the flour and scooped ¼ cup of the all purpose flour before he placed it back in the cabinets. As he moved back around the island, he picked up the chicken, eggs, mayo and chives before he reached the bowl, oil, and rice vinegar. </p><p>Alfred set the items down before pouring a tsp of rice vinegar in the flour, along with 1 egg, 1 tsp of mayo, and 1 tbsp of water. He reached into the spice cabinet grabbing salt, ground pepper, soy sauce, and old bay. He put in 1 tsp of salt, 1 tsp of pepper, 1 ½ tsp of old bay, and 1 tsp of soy sauce before shoving them back into the cabinet and mixing the contents till smooth.</p><p>He set the bowl off to the side before he opened the knife drawer. He reached for his smaller serrated knife and his meat cutting board, before he placed them onto the counter. Alfred turned, grabbed the chicken tenders, and opened the package. He placed them on the cutting board before turning and tossing the styrofoam. </p><p>He took the knife and started cutting the tenders into chicken nugget sized blocks before placing them to the side while continuing to break down the rest. Alfred looked down before he reached for a pan, acquired it, and put it on the stove top to his left. He uncapped the oil and poured it in, getting about an inch in before  he capped it, set it off to the side, and turned the burner on medium high.Alfred moved back to the cutting board, pushed the meat cutting board aside and started to chop the chives. He cut a 1 whole chive before he added them to the batter and dropped a small bit into the oil. </p><p>The batter bubbled and then rose to the top signaling the oil was ready. He took the chicken and moved it into the bowl, coating each piece in the batter before placing them in the oil. </p><p>While the chicken fried, Alfred grabbed a plate and paper towels for drying and patting off excess oil. He moved back to the pan to flip the now golden brown chunks and let them cook for another 30 seconds. He took two forks and carefully plucked the now finished nuggets out before repeating the process with the rest and ending with 35 perfectly cooked chicken nuggets. </p><p>He padded around the island for another plate and the lettuce. Alfred opened the box and served himself about a cup of the leafy greens before he walked back and grabbed 8 of the nuggets, a considerably smaller meal than normal.</p><p>Alfred stood at the island in the kitchen, plate in front of him as he looked back to the tv. He grabbed the controller before changing the channel back to CNN, away from the political blabbering of FOX. </p><p>Wolf and his guests still talked, moving onto the topic of mental health in the U.S. Alfred didn’t listen, he knew the mental health of his people as a whole, he knew the statistics already, no point in hearing them. </p><p>Alfred looked down at his meal, finger carefully plucking one of the warm nuggets from the bed of lettuce. He stared at it, it looked good, it smelled amazing, it would taste amazing too, but he was apprehensive. Something made him hesitate, a nervous feeling arose in him as he lifted the piece and took and took a small bite. </p><p>It was amazing, soft and warm on the inside, crispy on the outside, meat moist and flavorful. He almost moaned in joy at the taste before swallowing his bite. He finished the nugget, took a moment to drink, and then lifted another to his mouth. </p><p> </p><p>Bit, chewed, and swallowed. </p><p>He went for another, and dropped it. His mind buzzed with the insults of the other nations, the thoughts of his own people, and his own thoughts on his weight.He pushed the plate back, sliding it off of the island in disgust at himself. The clock chimed again, 4 deep tolls ringing out into the house. </p><p>4 hours until pick up. </p><p>Meal discarded and kitchen sullied, Alfred busied himself with cleaning. He drained the oil from the pan before loading it into the dishwasher with the knives, strainer, and cutting boards. Closing the dishwasher, he turned to the closet to drab the broom and dust pan, sweeping away the remnants of the plate and his meal, before he tossed them into the bin. Lastly he finished up by stowing the food away in the refrigerator. </p><p>Alfred paused, looking at the tv. He sighed, turned and left the room, the continuous droning from Wolf and his guest filling the air. </p><p>He walked to the living room before taking a seat on the sectional. Grabbing the remote and a knit blanket, he put on the news and curled up for a mid afternoon nap.  </p><p>He awoke, sun shined lightly through the beige curtains, the clock chimed again, 6 tolls rang out, calling him to rise from his bundle of warmth. Alfred dreaded leaving his house, he dreaded going in public with them, he absolutely abhorred it at this moment. </p><p>But he got up, walked to his room, and dressed in jeans and a t-simple navy blue t-shirt with a black and grey hoodie. His phone pinged, Gilbert texted that he would be there in 5 minutes. He walked to the bathroom and ran a hand through his hair before grabbing  a bottle  of xanax and popping two, for the ability to live through this evening out.</p><p>He shut off the lights before exiting the room, padding through the hall, and downstairs to his front door. He slipped on a pair of Vans, grabbed his wallet and keys before leaving his house and locking it. He sat on his front step while he waited for Gilbert. </p><p>A dark grey Volkswagen rolled up to his curb window lowered, showing the smiling faces of the Prussian and the Dane he was accompanying.  Alfred smiled, waved and walked to the car before, opening the door and sliding in the back seat. </p><p>“Hej!” Mathias greeted, excitement lacing his voice. “Are you ready for tonight, Al?” The Dane asked. </p><p>“What do you mean ready?” Alfred looked at Mathias, apprehension clear in his expression. </p><p>“Wait, Gil didn’t tell you?” he turned towards Gilbert “you didn’t tell him did you..” Mathias looked expectantly towards Gilbert, who smiled and shook his head. </p><p>“Nein, you do it.” Gil smirked before focusing back on the read leaving the suburb. </p><p> “Du tæve.” quipped Mathias before he turned back to face a confused Alfred. </p><p>“He said we were going to Union Pub.” The American added in, Mathias smiled. </p><p>“Yeah we are, but we have a challenge, whoever drinks the most gets a free cake, not one of the shit ones-” he was interrupted by a loud “Shit!” from The Prussian as he swerved to avoid a shit driver. </p><p>He continued “one of the good ones, like, a wedding cake.” Alfred smiled at Mathias, before he responded.</p><p>“Yer fuckin’ on.” </p><p>The drive lasted for 10 minutes more before they arrived at the pub, parked, and started the challenge. </p><p>Gilbert and Mathis spotted seats at the bar as they started talking and asking the tender for rounds while Alfred sat to the side, inputting what needed to be, but nothing more. </p><p>As the night continued, the three proceeded to become continuously wasted. Gilbert and Mathias joshed about, Alfred joining them as  they continued to to go deeper into their bottles. </p><p>“Oi, Mat, Gil, whad’dya think of Artie?” Slurred Alfred, annoyance clear in his tone. </p><p>“He’s not terrible, I think.” Gilbert said, tone question in the end. “ He can be a massive prick but otherwise he's not shit.” Gilbert turned to Mathias, both him and Alfred awaiting the Danes' opinion.  </p><p>“He’s a cunt.” Mathias stated simply and cleanly, slur gone for a moment before he downed another. “ He needs to get off ‘is high horse.” remarked the Dane. Alfred and Gilbert nodded, agreeing with his opinion before continuing to get property sloshed. </p><p>As they drank the Prussian and Dane became slowly more boisterous, presence overshadowing that of their American friend. </p><p>Alfred sat, his mind buzzing again, whether from the alcohol, drugs, or his own mental fuzz. </p><p>“Ey, ‘m gonna go guys.” Alfred said, Mathias and Gilbert both waved bye, each giving their own goodbye before he left. </p><p>Alfred hailed a cab and slit in the back, took the cabbie his address, and then looked out the window. The neon lights passed him, flashing colours over his face, and furthering the disconnected feel he felt. Everything felt far to him and as he arrived home, it increased. </p><p>He entered, running on autopilot as he shucked his shoes and tossed his wallet and keys to the side. Alfred padded upstairs, mind buzzing more. His mind speaking criticisms, of himself, his nation and his people. </p><p>He walked into the bathroom, craving something, a sound, a feeling, a release for himself. HIs mind remembered, the razors, there lying on his vanity was the release he needed. They would provide sensation, they would provide a feeling and a release from the fuzz. </p><p>Alfred took off his t-shirt, and exposed his stomach, the soft flesh showing an area where he could control and punish.</p><p>He rested the razor lightly on his skin, applying a light amount of pressure. He pulled, his skin spit softly, a small shallow line left in its wake. </p><p>It didn’t hurt, really, no it burned softly, but not painfully, it was warm, like a hug. He blinked before replacing the blade and added more pressure, a small sharp feeling pierced through the mental fog followed by a floating sensation. </p><p>He pulled again, faster, digging the corner into his skin, revealing a thin shallow strip of the epidermis, small round spots of blood dotting it before filling in the cut. Alfred continued, he flatted the blade slightly and focused more pressure onto the flattened part. </p><p>He pulled. </p><p>Alfred’s skin spit, a small gash revealed the gaping, bright white surface of the revealed epidermis. He stared at it, the cut filled in as rivulets of blood filled in the cut, edges creating a meniscus before it overflowed down from his hip. </p><p>He started at the crimson liquid, a calm, light feeling overtook him. He felt like he was high as he lifted the blade once again and repeated the action of angle, pressure, and pull.<br/>Another cut blossomed next to it’s twin, wide but not as wide as its predecessor. Alfred continued on, he marred his skin with two more, deeper than before but not as wide. </p><p>Sensations became more real for Alfred, and as he started to shake, he pressed down once more, blade lain completely flat, hand unsteady and uncaring of pressure. Alfred pulled, his skin spit, epidermis revealed in a long and wide strip. </p><p>He crashed back to the present. Pain filled his senses as he tossed the razor away and started the search of tissues and band aids. It burned, it felt horrible, but with the pain came a calm sensation, a happiness in the wake of his punishment and grounding of himself. </p><p>He stood back up, abandoning his search in favor of looking at his visage in the mirror. Rivulets of crimson flowed down his stomach and hips, he followed them with his eyes, before it came crashing down again and he dropped. </p><p>Alfred fell back, knees giving out, head hitting the vanity and eyes rolling back as he passed out and lay prone on his bathroom floor.  </p><p>His vision swam, black flashed and blurry colours moved in his eyes, a sore throb permeated his form as he lay, the passage of time nonexistent to him. His blood beat in his ears and heart in his throat, and that omnipresent white fuzz settled over his head once again. </p><p>There he lay, he passed out and prone on the floor.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>------------------<br/>Sorry for how long this update took! I got occupied with school so I tried to make this chapter longer. <br/>The chicken Alfred cooked is a real thing and a really good recipe, highly recommend. I'm not a fan of dialogue so I avoided a lot of it in this chapter except when concerning Union Pub. I tried to spend a good amount of time setting up everything including The Situation Room with Wolf Blitzer. I enjoyed right that part. Also the ending bits are taken from personal experience with a dissociative episode and using SH as a way to exit it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter also        sorry the section at the pub is shit, I was tired and didn't have. the heart to rewrite it.</p><p>With motivation</p><p>- xv<br/>------------------</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you enjoyed chapter 1, especially the Karen interaction which actually happened to me a few years back when my parents and I visited DC. It was annoying.<br/>Also I have taken to writing Alfred as a more cynical and less boisterous character.<br/>If you have anything you’d like to say please let me know down in the comments!<br/>I hope you are eagerly awaiting chapter 2<br/>This is going to pick up some speed next chapter so please, stick around.</p><p>Warm regards - xv</p></blockquote></div></div>
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